o throw knives. None of the things Alan learned from Hawkes were
proper parts of the education of a virtuous young man--but on Earth,
virtue was a negative accomplishment. You were either quick or dead. And
until he had an opportunity to start work on the hyperdrive, Alan knew
he had better learn how to survive on Earth. Hawkes was a master of
survival techniques; Alan was a good student.

He had his first test on a muggy night early in September. He had spent
his evening at the Lido, a flossy games parlor in the suburb of
Ridgewood, and had come away with better than seven hundred credits--the
second best single night he had ever had. He felt good about things.
Hawkes was working at a parlor far across the city, and so they did not
arrange to meet when the evening was over; instead, they planned to come
home separately. Usually they talked for an hour or two each night
before turning in, Alan reviewing his evening's work and having Hawkes
pick out the weak points in his technique and show him the mistakes he
had made.

Alan reached Hasbrouck about 0030 that evening. There was no moon; and
in Hasbrouck the street-lighting was not as efficient as it was in more
respectable areas of York City. The streets were dark. Alan was
perspiring heavily from the humidity. But the faint hum of the
cloud-seeders' helicopters could be heard; the evening rain was on the
way. He decided to wait outside a while.

The first drops splashed down at 0045. Alan grinned gleefully as the
cool rain washed away the sweat that clung to him; while pedestrians
scurried for cover, he gloried in the downpour.

Darkness lay all around. Alan heard sudden footsteps; a moment later he
felt sharp pressure in the small of his back and a hand gripping his
shoulder.

A quiet voice said, "Hand over your cash and you won't get hurt."

Alan froze just an instant. Then the months of Hawkes' training came
into play. He wiggled his back tentatively to see whether the knife was
penetrating his clothing. Good; it wasn't.

In one quick motion he whirled and spun away, dancing off to the left
and clubbing down sharply on his opponent's knife-hand. A grunted
exclamation of pain rewarded him. He stepped back two steps; as his
attacker advanced, Alan drove a fist into his stomach and leaped lithely
away again. This time his hand emerged holding the neutrino gun.

"Stand where you are or I'll burn you," he said quietly. The
shadow-shrouded attacker made no move. C